Page 129 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
“Oh good, turn on the fucking waterworks. It’s not gonna work, Pippi.” Jackson’s eyes met mine through the mirror. “You’rethe one who broke up withme. You don’t get to beupset.” He plucked his toothbrush out of his bag and set about cleaning his teeth in short, jerky motions.
His emotions crowded me, bludgeoning my wounded heart. But none of them were sorrow or heartache.
Disbelief.
Denial.
Disgust.
Rage most of all.
People often hid their hurt behind walls of anger—sometimes that was the last shield folks could erect to protect their heart. But there was a difference between a malleable buffer, weakly hoisted by a bruised soul, and the steel-solid door of Jackson’s fury.
Jackson, can’t youseethat the affection and adoration most couples have doesn’t exist between us?
Can’t youfeelhow empty our relationship is?
You probably can’t.
And I get it. Because I didn’t feel it either.
Until I found that connection I’d been missing in someone else.
“I’m going to go to dinner.Alone.” Jackson spat toothpaste into the sink and rinsed his mouth. “And I’m going to enjoy whatever part of this vacation I can.”
A tear tickled my cheek. I swiped it away. But more followed.
“You can head to your goofy friends next door. Or stay here. I don’t care. I’m not giving up the bed, though.” He turned, leaving his bathroom stuff scattered haphazardly along the counter, and bulldozed past me. “Don’t wait up,babe.”
And then he was gone, slamming the door shut behind him.
Two of the watercolor paintings on the wall bounced right off their hangings and crashed to the floor.
Rippingoff a Band-Aid lashed some intense pain into your skin.
But after? Once the adhesive was gone and the sting had receded…
Relief.
Your flesh was clean andnew.
The absence of pain left you wide eyed.Alive.
It was that rejuvenation that set me bolting out of my cottage at midnight, running down the cliff path—at a pace far too quick to be safe—and blurting to Alistair, “Let’s go. Please. Somewhere. Anywhere. Where it’s just the two of us.”
He hadn’t even said anything. I hadn’t given him the chance to.
But I’d felt him there—his happiness, and sorrow, and relief, and hope, and all the wonderful, tentative emotions he had. They’d cradled my heart as soon as I’d slid to a precarious halt in my usual spot.
His answer massaged my brain, healing the pain that’d been mounting all day. “As you wish, Pippi.”
I slipped out of my shoes and climbed the rest of the way down to him.
“Your clothing is lovely today,” he added. “It always is. But those colors. All of them. They’re…” he paused. Considering. “Beautiful. But that’s not a strong enough word. And…and…your hair is different.”
I still wore the rainbow blouse and pink skirt from the boat tour—I figured there’d been no point in getting changed just toget fresh clothes soaked in the sea—and my hair was still twisted into the woven bun Elisabeth had done for me.
“Thank you.” I beamed as I clambered to my usual spot atop Alistair’s head.
